Cassiopeia Time

2025-12-18 · Prachuap Khiri Khan, Thailand

I’m back in Prachuap Khiri Khan — or PKK, as we “insiders” often call this laid-back coastal town in southern Thailand, tucked between the Gulf of Thailand and the Myanmar border.

My fifth time here.

There’s no other place where I could randomly mix photos taken four years apart and caption them all in the present tense. Nothing has changed. And yet, something keeps drawing me back to this place where time seems to have slowed to a crawl.

It’s a time when I feel creative. Not that I have any artistic talents worth mentioning, but I enjoy taking pictures and layering them with other media — videos, sounds, small fragments of moments.

I feel at peace.

In the mornings, I often watch the sun rise, get a cup of warm soymilk and fresh breadsticks straight out of the sizzling oil, stroll along the waterfront, smile and say hi — sà-wàt-dee khâ — to anyone I make eye contact with. We often enjoy French-style lunches at Ludo’s; today there were ten of us. On other days, it’s pad thai, noodles, or wonton soup at one of my favorite small eateries.

There’s the morning market, the train market, the clock tower market, and the night market. Less frequently, the hospital market and temple fair markets. Which means you’ll always find something to eat.

You can climb up to the temple on Monkey Mountain (not its proper name — which I tend to forget as soon as I’ve looked it up), have a drink at Jimmy’s bar on the beach… but I’m getting carried away.

Are you still with me? Wondering what that strange title — Cassiopeia Time — is about?

There’s a concrete holding pen here that’s the sad home of a few giant tortoises. Whenever I see them — or even think of them — one of my favorite books comes to mind. It’s a children’s book, Momo by Michael Ende, published in 1973. Outside of Germany, hardly anyone seems to know it.

Momo is a fairy tale about stolen time, lost attention, and a child who reminds the world what living actually feels like. On her journey to bring people back to simple joys, a slower pace, and meaningful companionship, she is guided by Cassiopeia — a giant, ancient, wise tortoise.

Unlike the hurried world around her, Cassiopeia lives entirely at her own pace. She can see a short distance into the future. She moves without words, without urgency — just calm certainty. What makes her powerful is not foresight, but unshakable slowness. She never rushes Momo, never dramatizes danger, never argues. She simply keeps moving — step by step — knowing that arriving eventually is enough.

In a world obsessed with frantic efficiency, Cassiopeia embodies the opposite truth: that moving slowly, attentively, and without fear is itself a form of wisdom.

Over the years, my small circle of friends in Prachuap has grown, and I care deeply for each and every one of them. Some are struggling with health and personal challenges. Some have left us forever. It makes me acutely aware of how fragile and transient life is — and how important it is to follow Cassiopeia’s quiet lesson.

• Take your time.
• Be in the moment.
• Don’t worry too much about what might — or might never — happen.
• And above all, enjoy the people around you.